


Predictable

by debronze (sladistics)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sladistics/pseuds/debronze
Summary: Following the events of Joey helping the Teen Titans kidnap his father, Deathstroke. Slade isn't pleased, which sparks more than a heated argument between them.





	1. Chapter 1

“Don’t play dumb. Every time I turn my back there’s someone who manages to take advantage. And when I look, it’s disappointing. You’re starting to become predictable.”

Slade reaches into the fridge, picking up a bottle of bubbly water and staring over his shoulder.

“Seriously? You really are your mother.” But he settles for it, closing the door and twisting the bottle open before chugging a better half of it. 

Joe, on the other hand, stares with eyes both dangerous and fearful. Slade doesn’t make visits. His father doesn’t…seek him out. Unless wanting something. And even then, it’s a rarity. He doesn’t have Rose’s luxury…though he figures that she wouldn’t take kindly to that word having been motherless for most of her life. 

“I’m not playing dumb.” Joe retorts, subconsciously rubbing at the hidden transmitter projecting his voice. “I just….you can handle it. You really blame me for throwing you to the sharks every now and then?” He almost smiles at that. Almost.

“You call a group of kids with their hormones out of wack…sharks?” Slade scoffs, moving to lean his back against one of the counters as he stares at his son. Wild bed head and all- having interrupted his sleep at a near 3am in the morning.

“A normal parent would.” Joey mutters, folding his arms against his bare chest, fighting the urge to let out boiling frustrations.

“Don’t throw that shit at me. They’re children.” 

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal, dad. You act like I’ve been the root cause of all your misfortune. You and I know there’s only one person you can pin that on: you.” 

“Yah, yah. I know. I’m the incarnation of the devil. Play a new record.” Slade drawls, swinging back his drink after shaking his head. “I don’t know what the point of coming here was. Addie’s spent your whole life brainwashing you- there’s nothing you say that doesn’t sound like her nagging.” 

Joey grits his teeth. 

“You…you always do this! You miss the point!” He’s growling, exploding at his father in just his briefs in the admittedly cold kitchen. “Stop pretending this all comes from mom! You…you ignore me. You always have! Ever since this.” He gestures to the scar on his throat. “You act like that kid died that day…and I’m just a shell of what he was. How much money did you both spend to give me a way to communicate? And yet you are the only one I feel I am truly mute to.” He breathes heavy, eyes burning, he’s fighting desperately to keep his cheeks clear of any tears. Any weakness.

“Stop it, Joe.”

“No! You took my fiancé, you’re ruining my sister, you drove mom crazy- and somehow you still give more of a shit about Grant after all these years- who’s dead. And you want to stand there and whine about what you consider a minor inconvenience?!”

Slade’s lips twitch, his gaze torn away from his son as he stares towards the dark corners of the kitchen. He remembers a time when none of his kids would speak to him this way. But he supposes they aren’t kids anymore. And that fear as a father is as absent as he is as a father figure. 

“What do you want me to say? You know I won’t agree.” He speaks against the mouth of the bottle, his current distraction from a subject he’d rather not explore. 

“Of course not. It would kill you.” Joey combs his hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. “I don’t know…I don’t want you to say anything. I guess I just…I don’t want you to stand there and call me predictable. At this point it’s the only thing I know that you openly think of me.”

“Fuck’s sake, Joe. You’re my son.”

“Don’t call me that unless you’re willing to prove it. I’m just someone you know. Someone who shares your genetics- something mom loves to throw at me.” Joey’s hand drifts to the lower portion of his stomach, scratching idly at the faint happy trail residing there. 

“Prove? Boy, I have nothing to prove to you. But sure, maybe you’re not predictable. I won’t call you that. But if you think you have the luxury of standing here and telling me that I don’t see you as my kid? That I don’t know you well enough to know who you are? How you act?” He scoffs, setting the drink down and pushing off of the counter. He doesn’t have time for this.

What he doesn’t expect so that firm hand pressed to his chest and pushing him back against the counter. A low growl bites at the bottom of his throat as he glares at Joey. The young man staring up at him, his eyes beaming something he can’t quite put his finger on. 

“Move, boy.” 

Slade warns him once. But Joe has other ideas, suddenly distracted by the curve of his chest where his hand still sits.

“No.” 

In moments that hand is sliding down his front, pushing beneath the hem of his shirt, and expertly unfastening his pants. He’s not quite sure if it’s desperation or something else, but he’s gone too far to stop now. 

Slade doesn’t make to move. Doesn’t try to stop him.

“What are you doing?” He asks low, brows furrowed, his hands holding on to the granite behind him as Joe shoves warm fingers into his briefs, grabbing onto his meat which steals a sharp breath from him. 

“I’m going to change your perception of me.” Joey answers, his own mouth beginning to salivate. His father has always been easy on the eyes. Strong. Large. He knows its dramatic to think but, it seems as if everyone he knows wants a piece. Why can’t he?

In the same token, it surprises him when he feels how fast the meat in his hand stiffens. It could have very well not happened at all, but it almost scares him that it’s suddenly going the way he intended. “And it looks like you want me to.” 

“Is this really your plan?” Slade grinds out, fighting with moral and physical demons that seem to encourage his son’s hand pumping the length in his pants. Fuck. This can’t be happening…can it? 

Slade leans his head back, closing his eye and gritting his teeth to fight the sounds aching to be pulled from him. A mistake, it seems, when warm lips are then felt at his throat. It shouldn’t feel this good. None of this should and yet…

“You haven’t see it…but I’m good at a lot of things, dad. Just…let me show you.” A few more kisses are pressed near Slade’s Adam’s apple, before Joey pushes his jeans down just enough to watch that huge girth spring out of them. He’s quick to the knees, ignoring the icy kitchen tiles as his head turns to taste the area just between his base and thigh. His father’s sac huge….along with everything else.

He can’t remember such proportions when he’d accidentally walked in on him and mom. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Slade bites out, his neck flushed and skin heated. He forces himself to look down at that wild blond head of hair, Joey licking and kissing around his rigid cock that aches for more. His hand shoots down to collect a handful of those soft locks, jerking his son’s head back for their eyes to meet.

It’s over with. Joey is sure of it, unable to hide the whimper that escapes him with a burning scalp. 

“Get to it.” Slade orders, keeping hold of his head. 

Joey is relieved. Eager to follow that order as he leans forward to take Slade into his mouth. The deep moan he’s rewarded with encourages him. His table manners are forgotten here, letting his built up saliva spill over the length of him and down his own chin. He forces himself to cover every inch, working to get towards the base of him which is….a struggle. 

Emerald eyes flick up to look at his father who continues to stare down at him. They lock gazes, Joey moaning himself to let the vibrations ring through that rod. He tastes…perfect. Neither of them take the time to question what they’re doing. Joey simply keeps at it, proving to Slade that it was far from his first time- an unsettling thought for the father who eases his grip on him. Lets his fingers sit on his head and massage into those locks instead. 

“Good boy…” Slade breathes out, his cock drenched in warm saliva and a skilled tongue that seeks to pull what swells his sac. Joey isn’t looking for a quick release either. Pulling his mouth back to kiss and swirl his tongue against the smooth pink head, a bob missing his mouth completely to nibble at his sac. He stretches out this pleasure for as long as he can, his own briefs stretching with the bulge between his thighs. 

He’s both fearful and excited to see how this ends. All logic is lost in the moment, but he doesn’t doubt the tone will solidify between them as soon as it’s all over. And it seems that is happening sooner rather than later, Joey yet again attempting to throat all that he can of Slade’s shaft, quietly choking against the throbbing heat. His father’s breaths go short and sharp- an easy tell that he is close.

Leave it to Slade to not verbalize it. Doesn’t he understand the common decency?

A stupid question. His hips thrust forward and hold there with the hand on Joey’s head pushing closer. Slade’s body tenses and like clockwork he can feel the warm cream filling into his throat. Joey won’t fight it. He obliges, dropping his jaw to comfortably swallow the load that is…surprisingly filling. He pushes against that hand to slide his mouth back just enough to suck whatever is left for him to drink. It warms his stomach, stains his tongue and throat, his father’s seed that is now a taste he knows and…satisfies. 

He’s slowly working at lapping up the saliva and come coating Slade’s length when he’s yanked up by the nape of his neck. Pulled back into reality- terrifyingly so as his body drapes against Slade’s front. 

“Dad-.”

His hand rests on his chest, ready to push away as they both look to each others eyes. 

He can’t help but expect the very worst. His heart throbbing hard and his stomach clenching. 

Until the calloused hand at his neck slides down his smooth spine, resting at the small of his back. The other hand holding his hip. No words need to be spoken before their lips meet. Hungry. Sloppy. He never thought he’d enjoy the friction of that beard against his skin. The taste of his mouth so eager for Joey’s seeded one. Their hands grip and drag against one another, feral and possessive before the kiss breaks. 

Their foreheads rest together, Joe on the tips of his toes, to taste his father’s breath. 

It’s only Slade who speaks.

“Don’t betray me again.”


	2. 2

“Some people prefer when I sign…the voice freaks them out.” Joey’s hand is clasped upon the back of this stranger’s neck, pulling him in close while continuing to sway to the heavy music booming around them. The club is a regular of his- or rather he is a regular. A gay club. The best in the city, considering it’s a rarity that he runs into the same one night stands every time he goes. A big plus for him.

“There are men dressed as bats, cats, and birds running around fighting aliens. And they think an advance in technology to help the disabled are weird?” The guy is cute. A red head, with freckles painting his cheeks and shoulders, mixed with a gloss of glitter. He’s busy drinking him in when he feels him freeze up, smacking a palm to his head. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, right? I mean…disabled. That was…stupid of me.”

Joe grins, his free hand moving to tug at his shirt playfully.

“You do know it’s not a slur, right? It’s what I am. I’ve embraced it, as anyone else does. But hey…bonus points for having a little heart.” His brows rise suggestively, bottom lip trapped beneath pearly whites. 

The man smiles, his arm roping around Joey’s waist and pulling him in close.

“God you’re so fucking hot, y’know? Of all the guys in here you’re talking to me? Must drive that guy crazy. Been eyeing you for ten straight minutes.” 

He leans up onto the balls of his feet at that, planting a gentle kiss at the corner of his jaw as gratitude for the compliment. A dried and rung out one at that, but what else should he expect dancing half naked in a room full of horny men?

That last comment, however, gets his attention.

“Hmm?” He looks over his shoulder, expecting to see another patron ogling him, only to see a man who drains all of the color out of his face. Steals the very soul from his body. All the music and lights die around him as he focuses only on that face.

Slade.

“You know that guy?” He’s not hiding his shock. His fear. His frustration. Turning away from the stranger who tries to grab at his arm to pull him back. “What the hell? Joey! That your ex or something?”

Those words are laughable, but he hardly pays attention, making his way over to the bar where his father sits facing the club. 

“Fucking tease.” The red head bites out before Joey is far out of his reach, storming up to the giant who sips casually at his old fashioned. His composure outstanding when he doesn’t shout the words ‘What the FUCK, dad?!’ first.

“Is this some kind of joke? What the hell are you doing here?” He’s looking over his shoulder in a growing panic, afraid of who will know them. Him. It had been nearly a month since he had last seen or heard from Slade. After that night in his kitchen, of course, things had become awkward. Tense. For Joey, at least. 

“-TT-. Nice to see you, too. Didn’t have to stop your fun because of me…m’here undercover.” Slade drawls out before taking another pull of his cocktail. He’d like to know who convinced him to drink that- dad doesn’t do cocktails. That’s not what has his jaw falling open, however, it’s the complete lack of logic in his answer.

“You’re here. In a gay club. In Los Angeles. Undercover.” Joey looks around him sarcastically hands throwing into the air to punctuate his point. “Da- Slade….what makes you think I’m actually going to buy that?”

“Not my problem if you don’t believe me.” Slade shrugs, gesturing to one of the bartenders to bring Joey a drink. Joey is quick to the countertop, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine, thank you. Water would be nice.” His voice is sweet, and quickly missing as he turns his head to his father with fire burning in his eyes. “What are you playing at?” He steps into his space, staring up at him defiantly. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I know you, and wanting a clear answer from you is like pulling teeth.”

“That really what you wear to these places?”

God he could kill him. 

Slade doesn’t hide that his gaze is taking in that outfit. A white crop top over a pair of hip hugging shorts. Attaching the two together are suspenders bearing the pride flag. Joey happy to flaunt himself in front of these strangers…but feeling almost violated by that cold single eye.

“Not all of us show up to Feathers in a suit. You’re screaming ‘I’m willing to pay for a Twink who will inevitably rob me in the hotel room I overpaid for’.”Joey rolls his eyes, thanking the bartender as he collects the cup of water.

But even over the music he hears something he least expects. Is that…a chuckle? Emerald orbs dart to look over at him, seeing a rare grin stretching over his lips.

“Heh. Funny. You better be careful, you don’t want to know what that is screaming right now.” His father retorts, forcing a smile upon his own lips. He can’t remember the last time he’s made Slade smile like that. It’s a few short moments that they share it before Joey forces his lips to press together, his forearms leaning over the counter as he sticks his backside out a bit.

“Guess this means we’re never going to talk about what happened…huh?” He doesn’t expect an answer, or even an indication that Slade heard the question. If there’s anything his father is good at, it’s avoidance.

“You think we need to?” Slade challenges him, an unsettling curiosity sounding in his voice.

“I mean…if it means you’re going to keep avoiding me…I don’t want that. A mistake like that shouldn’t permanently sever our relationship.” No one knows but them. While he can’t exactly justify, he can at least admit that it’s no worse than other Wilson Family secrets.

“A mistake? Is that what you think it was? That you mistakenly took my cock for a what? Lollipop?”

Joey’s cheeks turn bright red, grateful for the flooding of flashing lights even if the look on his face bleeds shame. He can’t believe Slade says it out loud. Somehow…it makes it feel real, after spending the past month thinking it a dream. Practically praying it.

“So what? You want to just accept the facts then? We can do that, pop.” He pushes off of the counter, stepping between Slade’s spread knees and into his space. Daring him. Challenging his demeanor. He leans forward, close enough for only his father to hear him. “Your son got on his knees and swallowed your load.”

Slade sucks his teeth after finishing his glass, turning his head to meet the one so close to him now. He’d be lying if that open admission and determination burning bright didn’t send a rush of blood right through him. 

“Not like you gave me much choice.”

“Are you kidding me?” His temper flares quickly. “You’re really gonna sit there and tell me that I forced it, Jackass?” He wishes Slade’s drink was still full, tempted to throw something in his face. Instead he takes a step back, ready to verbally combat him just before a massive hand reaches out to grab the front hem of his shorts. Slade yanks him in, keeping his fingers tucked into his waistband, knuckles brushing the warm skin of his stomach. Joey braces himself on those shoulders, his mouth dry and his words lost. 

“You knew I’d never say ‘no’ to that sweet mouth.” Slade purrs, wetting his lips subconsciously as his hands seek to smooth over shapely hips. “And I don’t think there was ever going to be another choice. Something had to change.” 

“Sexual favors wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Joey mutters, but hopelessly melting into that possessive hold, his hands easing on those shoulders to smooth over his chest. “But I know you. And I know that the way you operate is transactional. You get something. I get something.”

“Christ. You make me sound like a robot.”

“The comparison isn’t far off.”

“Okay, Adeline.” 

Joey responds with a deadpan look, lips pursed- clearly displeased. 

“You know…for someone so eager for more, you’re playing all of the wrong cards. It’s no wonder you drove her crazy.” 

“Told you–– I’m on the clock. Seeing you here? Like this? S’just a bonus.” Slade grins an evil toothy thing, keeping his hold tight enough on Joey to prevent him squirming away. But the boy isn’t trying. He’s quietly content in those strong arms, knowing that envious eyes are upon the both of them.

“Yeah. Undercover. Can I help?”

“No.” 

Eyes roll, his hands shove Slade’s off of him, not without a fierce effort. His arms fold over his chest, hips cock out to the side. 

“Right. I’m headed home, dad. Thanks for stopping by to finally talk to me again. See you in another month, yeah? I’ll tell mom you said hi.” He’s annoyed. Frustrated. His time being played with along with his morals and emotions. It’s enough to exhaust him, taking the wind out of his sails. He turns away, taking a few steps before halting at the sound of Slade’s voice behind him.

“Left my luggage in your room. Don’t worry yourself with it…I’ll take care of it when I get there.”


	3. 3

The rage is like a storm inside of his chest. His head pounds as he grits his teeth so hard and clenches his fists at his side. The walk home sees him deaf to any comments made his way, making it the whole journey in half the time he usually will considering the angry march of his feet. By the time he’s made it back to his place, any relief earned on the way is quickly undone. His father’s belongings are set by the bed, triggering a fist slammed into the wall.

Slade. Injecting himself into Joey’s life. And for what cause? That’s yet to be revealed. But there is one. One he can’t quite justify. He’s got half a mind to take Slade’s things and set it outside. To throw them out of his high rise. Knowing his father, he’s already planned on Joey doing one of the above- somehow making it out to be lesson. Always one step ahead, even when he’s nowhere near the battlefield. 

His phone is out, and he can’t keep track of the amount of times he stares at his mother’s and sister’s number. Tempted to call, to seek help in easing the hurricane of emotions trapped inside of him. But what could be said without disclosing the very secret rotting inside of him? They’d ask. They’d find out. 

He ends up discarding the phone and stripping down to his briefs, making a point to move Slade’s things to the sofa. Exhausted, he crawls into bed, closing his eyes and wishing himself to sleep. Of course, with knowledge that his father could show up at any given moment, the only thing that gets tired is the anxiety riddled in his nerves. 

By the time he does show up, he’d almost managed to slip away into something far safer than reality. He stirs just a little, keeping his eyes closed as he hears Slade’s movements through the dark apartment. 

“I know you’re awake.” Slade greets, standing opposite of the side of the bed Joey is spread upon. His hands sliding his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt.

Joey’s lip twitches.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not trying to fall asleep here. You mind?” He scoffs out, his brows scrunching in annoyance, muttering after the fact, “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Yah? You gonna throw me out?” He can hear the faint condescending tone beneath the joy he has in challenging his own son. 

“Whatever, pop. Left you a blanket on the sofa.” He shifts to turn his back towards him, clutching the pillow just a little closer.

“Sofa? Sure. Maybe when you vacuum up the glitter and take that come stain out. I figure that won’t be tonight.” Slade justifies it as simple as that, all while Joey is left with a pinch of shame. 

“It’s…it’s not come. It’s frosting.”

He doesn’t know what it is, actually. He’s not even convinced there’s a stain at all.

“Heh. Frosting? Sure. Same thing that came out of my dick, right? What did you think? Chocolate or vanilla?” 

Joey shoots up and throws him a look, seething quietly, but before he can respond he is forced to look upon his father who’s just now kicking off his pants. He too left only in his briefs. His mouth goes dry, his words and thoughts briefly stalled.

“Sofa.”

“No.” 

Slade climbs into the bed, pushing white locks bag as he gets comfortable beneath the sheets. He’s propped up against a few pillows, tucking an arm behind his head letting out a deep sigh. Joe can’t help but stare, completely at a loss for words. He forces himself back down, on his own back, staring at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe that’s all I had to do to get you to visit me. Suck your cock. Therapy is going to be a field day.” 

“Utter those words to anyone and I’ll reopen your throat.” Slade snaps at Joey suddenly, a tone that sees his son looking over with fearful eyes. The sudden tension swallows their space, forcing Joey to look away and swallow hard.

“You haven’t used that threat in a while….hah. You don’t want anyone to know…but you have no problem throwing it in my face. Classic Slade.”

“No one can know, Joseph.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, and I’m just bursting at the seams holding it in.” The sarcasm drips from his lips as he rolls back onto his side, once again away from the killer beside him. “Don’t worry, our secret is safe. I’m the one who initiated, remember? I don’t need that getting out.”

“Right, because your reputation far exceeds that of Deathstroke, huh?”

“Seriously? You really think anyone would be surprised if they had found out you were the one who took advantage? I think I have a little more to lose.” 

He can’t help but to look over his shoulder at that, his body suddenly gone frozen when he sees Slade propped on his arm and staring down at him. Close. Far too close. 

“Do you regret it?”

That question surprises him. And even more than that, the sense that Slade is…serious. Concerned, almost. Joe closes his eyes and exhales deep, mind and heart currently at war.

“No.” He admits quietly, looking back up into that firm gaze. “….do you?”

It’s an odd thing…the shift in the air. From a father chiding his son…to a source fo energy that pushes the two closer. His heart beats rapidly as if he already knows the answer to the question. He shifts himself back into Slade’s form, finding his hips to let his rear rest upon them. Large and powerful, he keeps himself pressed gently, propping himself up to only let his torso turn to face him. 

“I made you feel good….didn’t I?” Lips are licked as he presses his nose into Slade’s neck, inhaling his scent while gently rolling his hips back into him. “I even wonder….was I your first man?” Josephs pulls his head back, not before biting a gentle kiss onto Slade’s jaw. He can’t help but to feel a bit of joy taunting Slade this way. It seems to be the only thing to make him shut up. 

Joey smirks at him before dropping back into the mattress and moving his hips away from him, back into his normal position as he lets Slade be the one to figure out what the hell is going on inside of him. It’s unforeseen how quickly he does, however. A warm work-scarred hand is suddenly creeping into his briefs, forcing Joey to look back to a preoccupied gaze. 

“You’ve always been a hungry boy, Joseph.” Slade’s low voice sends a shiver up his spine, forcing it arch- unintentionally beckoning the hand seeking to cup the swell of his rear. “I wonder how you’ll fair when you bite off more than you can chew.”


	4. 4

“And let me guess...you’re the ‘more’?” Joe’s lips come apart as he lets out a satisfied breath, his own hand reaching down to guide Slade’s further over the curve of his hip. “I think we both don’t know what we’re doing.”

Joey looks to that eye, sliding his fingers between Slade’s as it cups muscled flesh.

“But I also think we both want to see where it goes. I wont tell. You won’t tell. And in the end...if you decide you don’t want to show up in my apartment out of the blue again, then that’s that. I always have Feathers.”

“You’re my son, didn’t think there was a way to make it sound normal.” Slade tries to combat it, despite how close fingers are to the crease between his cheeks.

“Grant was your son. Think of this like...mm...like Batman and Robin.”

Slade jerks himself closer, staring down at Joseph with a set jaw.

“You are my son. I bathed you. Clothed you. Taught you how to shave. It’s more than my own father did.”

“No, dad. Mom did those things.” He rolls over onto his back to stare up at him, placing warm hands over his bare chest and rubbing at is gently. Beckoning him closer as he hooks one of his feet with one of Slade’s.

“She was there for everything...while you were off doing what you did best. What you loved most.”

“You trying to fuck with me, Joey? That what this is? Remind me what a shit father I am? I didn’t expect this from you.”

“No. I’m simply explaining why you shouldn’t be so hesitant to do this. To fuck me.” One of his hands lunges between them, grabbing for Slade’s bulge that, to no real surprise, is already hard. He easily shifts to place himself fully beneath him, spreading his legs and bending his knees back to encourage Slade forward. “Get it out of your head that this is your son. I have wanted so badly for you to look at me the way you are now...have me as if I am any other who aches for Slade Wilson.”

His hand gropes that girth over the thin fabric of his father’s briefs, just enough to pull the man in, pressing his hips flush to Joey’s. He almost chokes on his own breath as his whole form engulfs in the flame that is Slade.

“As if I were one of the women you were having when you were away...”

Slade growls at the canting of hips—Joey grinding up against his bulge.

“Yeah? That the way you want me, boy?” Slade leans back while grabbing at the waistband of Joe’s underwear, yanking them off and not without a tear of fabric sounded.

Violent hands force Joe onto his stomach at the hips, Slade flipping him over with ease. His hear rate elevates when he feels his cheeks spread naturally, exposing the bare hole between them. He whimpers softly as he looks back over his shoulder, eyes widening as Slade is already holding his heavy length in his hand.

“Hnngh...you’re gonna wanna use some lube, dad...top drawer of nightstand.” He lets his face fall into the pillow, almost numb to any dark thoughts swirling in his head. He wants this. He knows he does.

But Slade ignores him. Pushing his knees further apart to mount his sculpted rear, the warm head of him positioned at his puckering muscle. He’s filled with a sudden panic then, turning again to look at him with his hand reaching back to push at his stomach.

“Lube first, Chad.” He’s a little annoyed he has to repeat himself, but becomes incredibly fearsome when Slade begins pushing the blunt into his slit.

“Slade...Slade! Dad!! Dad please you need...ah... AH!” Its huge. Thick. Dry. His he can feel his skin tearing, his muscle stretching at an uncomfortable friction. It fills him faster than he had anticipated, but he can hardly enjoy it. “Dad please....this hurts...” he whimpers, his attempts to stop the man completely worthless before he’s dropping back into the sheets, crying out when that length continues to fill him.

He cant even enjoy the sounds Slade is making over his own painful experience. What he wouldn’t give to at least look upon that massive form sexually crippled by the feeling of his son’s own hole.

“Just like those women, eh Joe?” Slade growls as he finally reaches the hilt. Slade’s heavy sac draped over Joey’s as he twitches inside that tight muscle. “I can fuck you like that. Make you bleed and cry because those women, Joe? They mean nothing to me. But that’s what you want, huh? You want that, boy?”

He fears the moment Slade pulls out and slams back in. Trembling under his large figure, grabbing at his own hair to suffocate the pain. It doesn’t come, which makes matters worse. He does however hear the drawer open. He opens his eyes to see Slade reaching into his drawer, collecting the bottle of lube.

There is hope.

He sets it next to Joe’s face, keeping hold of it as he stares down into that messy blond hair.

“Or would you prefer a different way, hm? Not as some stranger...but you. My son.” His voice is calmer. Kinder. Joe is surprised, turning to look at the gaze Slade casts upon him. “I don’t need to pretend you’re someone else to take care of you.”

Joey nods his head, whimpering softly as he reaches for the hand next to him holding the lube container.

“I want that.” He confirms gently. “I want you.”

Slade nods once before leaning back and carefully sliding out of him. Joey pushes up as well, twisting his torso to rest his hand upon his father’s thigh. Slade is flipping open the cap when Joey asks for the bottle.

“Let me.”

The bottle is handed over to him, and Joey is overly generous with the amount he spills onto his fingers. The first dollop is for the meat between his father’s legs. He reaches behind to pump the lube over him, stroking up and down. The next squirt of fluid is rubbed over his sore hole, once and then twice before Slade’s fingers do it instead.

“That’s my job.” He whispers, tracing the pink flesh before pressing a finger into him. Joey moans softly, bringing a hand to his own crotch.

He cant wait. Those truthful words assuring that Slade only wants this knowing it is just the two of them...it swells his heart. Has him aching physically and emotionally.

That finger pumps in and out of him a few times before it is yet again replaced with that slick head. A much better feeling when the pressure comes, despite the size still forcing an unbelievable pain.

“Nnngh.... I’m okay...” he urges Slade, resting the back of his shoulders to the front of his chest. “I can fit you...all of you...” he forces his hips back slowly until Slade thrusts the rest of the way in, forcing a sharp noise to slip from the both of them.

It’s a marathon for both of them. Slade’s hands holding curved hips as he thrusts hard into that hot hole. Both of them dripping, the flesh between them slick and reddened by the violent slapping. Joey hardly as the strength to meet those hips, letting Slade do as he pleases as his torso stretches against the man’s form. His hands are reaching to hook behind his neck, using it to pull Slade lower, wanting to taste his mouth as he gives his ass to him. 

Slade obliges, tasting every moan and whimper he draws from his son, lapping his tongue over the collected saliva swallowed down into his stomach. Damp fingers clutch into white locks, Slade’s own sliding over his stomach, the other over his chest to find and pull at a pink nipple. 

“Keep going…” Joe pants out against his lips, squeezing his hole around Slade to help further an inevitable orgasm. “I want to feel you inside of me…warm and thick…I’ll keep you there as long as I can.” 

A promise Slade will intend to see him keep. 

“I…ah…” Joe feels weakened by the hammer Slade’s cock continues to do, forcing his lips to bite another kiss onto his father’s throat. “I love you….I love you, dad.” 

It’s a slip of a very high wall, but it’s also the trigger that unloads his father’s seed into him. Slade growling and painting the inside of his son with a thick cream that already fights to spill out of him. But Slade keeps himself buried, both of their bodies trembling slightly from the pleasure. 

He collapses forward, careful not to crush the boy beneath him as they lay in the bed. Joe breathes heavy, groaning happily as Slade is certain to keep his length buried as he lays on his side. He can’t help but wonder if this has all just been a dream. 

In what world would Deathstroke fall asleep with arms wrapped around him? Holding him. Kissing his shoulder. Not this one. And so for tonight, he’ll ignore the gentle tears that cup his emerald eyes. They’ll be dried by morning.


End file.
